


thinking 'bout the streets, the cars, the headlights

by mooncrash



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Can be read as platonic and just horrible at delivering compliments!, Disrespect towards Jaws (1975), F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, POV Second Person, Pining, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:48:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25846876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mooncrash/pseuds/mooncrash
Summary: Medic glanced down for the briefest of moments at his shoes before looking back to you, answering only, “It’s a lovely night for a walk, isn’t it?”A beat of silence.You squinted at the doctor. “Are you okay?”Medic's been acting weird lately, so when he shows up at your door one night for some company, you're more than a little caught off guard by his request.
Relationships: Medic (Team Fortress 2)/Reader, Medic (Team Fortress 2)/You
Comments: 12
Kudos: 74





	thinking 'bout the streets, the cars, the headlights

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a headcanon about Medic's quiet but pervasive touch-starvedness by [Mozzy (snoozyhooter)](https://snoozyhooter.tumblr.com/post/626095160590270464/anonymous-ask-anon-you-do-have-a-point-you-all/) over on Tumblr and Well Folks If I Get My Shit Wrecked I'm Gonna Write About It! The title is, of course, song lyrics, this time from "idwgtbt" by the booyah! kids.

The sounds of indistinct chatter faded as the other mercs left the mess hall, leaving you to wash your dishes in silence. Soldier had bravely attempted to pioneer a new form of cooking that night called “indoor barbecue” (which Pyro and Demo were _all_ too willing to help with) along with a relatively safe side of coleslaw, which Soldier upended as he dove across the table to strangle Medic after he called it _"Kohlsalat"._ All things considered, it was better than last night. Cooking was a very hazardous endeavour with nine men who seemed to have no idea what “realistic aspirations in the kitchen” were. _Exempli gratia,_ whenever Medic cooked, there was a not-insignificant chance he’d try to bring the food to life.

You let out a chuckle as you set the plate you’d been drying aside. Medic. He’d been popping up in your thoughts even more than usual lately. You didn’t keep very close tabs on him; he was perfectly content to hole up in the med bay/lab setup he had going, and you were… relatively content to leave him to it. Recently, however, something had been off about him. He’d taken to cycling between intense extroversion and introversion, alternating between calling team members into his lab at random yet unceasing intervals and keeping everyone out for days on end, shouting at anyone who disturbed his mysterious work. Heavy probably knew what was wrong by merit of his friendship with the good doctor, but so, rather bemusingly, did Spy. For once, though, the Frenchman was keeping his mouth sealed shut. _Figures that no matter the situation, he’d always go out of his way to take the most annoying tack possible._ You smiled bitterly in frustration. Enough about Medic. If there was something he wanted to communicate to the rest of the team, he’d crack eventually. You finished drying your silverware, pushed away any lingering thoughts about the resident doctor, and turned off the lights behind you as you left the mess hall to join your teammates.

* * *

For the rest of the night, you managed to push Medic from your mind almost entirely. It was a perfectly enjoyable evening of Scout and Demo taking extreme liberties with the dialogue of _Jaws_ as it played on the TV with busted speakers, ranging from questionable to _wildly_ inappropriate, and Engineer’s glares cowed Scout into apologizing to you after the movie was done. Engie offered his assurances that Demo would do the same as soon as he woke up the next morning, along with a promise to fix the TV speakers before the next movie night. As you headed back to your room and set about getting ready for bed, you were distracted from the thoughts of your besmirched honour by a realization- Medic hadn’t come up once. Even physically. He hadn’t been there. He loved a good gore movie, and even though _Jaws_ was by no means a slasher film, he would’ve enjoyed roundly mocking the special effects any other time. He must’ve instantly retreated to his lab again after dinner. You pondered his absence while brushing your teeth, staring unseeing at the mirror. _Is he afraid of sharks? Is he afraid of Massachusetts? Does he not like Richard Dreyfuss? Is it the beard?_

 _KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK._ You were startled from your reverie by a rap on your door, sharply delivered in even beats. Taking only but a moment to choke on your toothpaste, you garbled out a “Coming!” before coughing as quietly as possible and wiping off your mouth. There was only one person those knocks could belong to, and sure enough when you swung open the door, there stood Medic, still in a collared shirt and vest with his hands clasped behind his back and an uncharacteristically blank expression on his face. He took a millisecond to load an emotion, then greeted you with his trademark Slightly-Crazy-Definitely-Evil Smile, though you noticed it hung slightly crooked on his handsome face.

You opted for a (hopefully) casual lean against the doorframe and smiled easily. “Medic! Hello, fancy seeing you here at this hour. What’s up?” Even at this most simple of questions, Medic’s bright blue eyes dimmed slightly. He glanced down for the briefest of moments at his shoes before looking back to you, answering only, “It’s a lovely night for a walk, isn’t it?”

A beat of silence.

You squinted at the doctor. “Are you okay?”

Medic groaned and rolled his eyes, all the tension draining from his shoulders as they slumped in annoyance. _“Ja,_ I am okay, what is with all of these people thinking I am not okay?”

“Yeah, well, you answered my question with another cryptic question! And besides, since when were you the sort of person to go on ‘walks’? At night? With me?” _Wait, ‘all of these people’? You thought it was just Heavy and Spy..._

Medic determinedly avoided eye contact with you for an impressively long time, gesturing expansively with his hands and looking anywhere but your face as he responded, “Well, since I realized we have not talked outside of battle in some time, _mäuschen_. Sure, I’ve cut your heart out and replaced it with a new one, but that is not the sort of ‘heart-to-heart’ that builds teams, _richtig?_ Oh, _verschone mich!_ You’re allowed to laugh, that was funny.”

Frowning to try and conceal the beginnings of a smile, you looked Medic up and down again. He didn’t seem to be in any sort of distress and he wasn’t sweating like a man with a gun to his head, and you knew the BLU spy had an unpleasant run-in with Engie’s new Kneecap Removal Robots earlier today that would leave him unlikely to attempt a run on your base in the dead of night. Even so- “What was your first patient’s name?”

“Walther Erikson.”

You nodded and held up a finger in the universal “give me a minute” sign, grabbing a coat off the hook by the door and patting your pockets for the spare key tucked away in them. Upon locating it, you slapped your trusty “Gimme 15 minutes or go get Heavy Xx” note on the outside of your door and stepped into the hall, Medic graciously stepping back to give you some space as the two of you headed towards the compound’s exit.

* * *

The New Mexico night was dry as a bone, a chill breeze biting at your cheeks in the otherwise temperate air. Crickets and the occasional call of a desert bird were the only sounds, set to the omnipresent background humming of generators, AC units, and all other manner of electrical gizmos. As the pair of you passed by the shed that Miss Pauling kept her axes and quicklime in, you took a stab at filling that relative quiet.

“Lucky you caught me, I was just about to change into pyjamas. And you know that once I’m in those, there’s no going back from that,” you joked, going to elbow Medic before realizing he was just out of range. Frowning slightly to yourself, you looked up at his half-hearted smile and tried again: “It’s good you’re still in long sleeves, if I didn’t have a jacket right now, my arms would be kinda chilly out here. And we love the commitment to the vest. You’re makin’ it look good! Don’t think I haven’t- that, uh, that we haven’t noticed! Yeah! _We_ have noticed! It’s a good- you- it’s a real good… um, vest. Yeah.” You risked another glance up at Medic, fully expecting him to at least be smirking at your slipup and mentally cataloguing it for Later Consideration, but he was still staring off into middle distance, determinedly maintaining a solid three feet between the two of you. _If you're out here embarrassing yourself over his shoulder-to-waist ratio, the least he could do is notice._ You sighed, stopped, waited for Medic to realize he was alone, and as he spun around in confusion, you held out a hand to him.

Into the expectant silence you said, “C’mon doc, you haven’t said a word to me and refuse to get within a yard of me. I’m honestly feelin’ like Scout here.” Medic blinked hard before shaking his head to clear it and politely looping an arm around yours, sighing gustily and slightly melodramatically, hitching a ghost of his usual smile back on his face. “Not my intention at all, _mäuschen._ Merely lost in thought.”

More silence, save for the sound of crickets and gravel crunching under two pairs of feet.

“You are _hard_ leaning away from me right now.”

“I am merely being cognizant of germs, they are- “

“They’re everywhere, I know, but you’re the one who took my arm in the first place and I’m trying to be cognizant of _Germans_ right now _._ Namely, you.” You turned to face Medic and took both of his chilly hands in yours, earnestly looking up at him and trying to pour all of your concern into your tone. “What’s wrong, Medic? C’mon, say words to me, I wanna help but I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Medic stared down at his and your joined hands for a long, still moment before responding hesitantly, “Well, it has been a very long time that I have been in the lab, and… even longer since I have been with a friend. I do love Archimedes dearly,” he clarified hastily, as though worried you would think him unappreciative of his birds, “but he and the other doves simply do not replace human contact, not for extended periods.” The line of Medic’s shoulders sagged as he exhaled and didn’t rise nearly as much on his inhale. He still didn’t look up from his and your hands after making this confession.

Well. That would explain the alternating attentiveness and distance. After a second of mental lag, you blew out a breath and tried to collect your thoughts before squeezing Medic’s hands to draw up his eyes. “Well,” you began, feeling his bright blue gaze on you, “that’s definitely a pickle, to be sure. Good news though, you’re in luck. I’ve always got plenty of attention to spare for a friend. Non-medical topics, too!” Medic gave a watery-sounding chuckle. “Thank you, _mäuschen.”_ You squeezed his hands one more time, smiling when he squeezed back. “And hey! Whenever you wanna just get out of the lab for a while, you know where to find me. Although next time, we should grab some coffee or snacks to bring with us.” Medic tried for a smile again, and this time it looked much less precarious. Taking away one hand to push his glasses up, Medic turned to face forward again, but let you keep hold of his other hand as it dropped to the space between the two of you. He took a fortifying breath before looking down at you, and oh, _there_ was that smirk.

“Ah, so we are enabling your midnight snacking habit again? Living up to your namesake, _mäuschen.”_ You snorted and elbowed him, grinning through a familiar flush as you grumbled good-naturedly and took his now-warm hand again. As you both started to walk through the still desert night once again, you began, “Hey, d’you wanna hear a _really_ off-colour joke about _Jaws?”_

**Author's Note:**

> Translations are in order!  
>  _ **Kohlsalat-**_ coleslaw, can also be called _Krautsalat_  
>  _ **mäuschen-**_ little mouse  
>  _ **richtig?-**_ right?  
>  _ **verschone mich-**_ give me a break
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr at [viticomae](https://viticomae.tumblr.com/)! Thank you for reading!


End file.
